


My Target, My Mission.

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Awkward Flirting, BAMF Bucky Barnes, BAMF Steve Rogers, BAMF Tony Stark, Dark!Tony, Flirting, Possessive Tony Stark, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Victim!Steve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-08-08 15:35:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7763362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark is a highly trained assassin. Young, intelligent, deadly... </p>
<p>His mission is to eliminate Steve Rogers... </p>
<p>Steve Rogers is a trusting, caring, patriotic... US Special Ops...</p>
<p>Nothing can go wrong, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My Target

"Tony Stark. Mission report." The dark figure sits behind his desk, weapon in clear view sitting right in front of him. 

My weapons were confiscated before I was granted entrance into his office, so I'm defenseless before him. 

I am nervous, hell I'm a fucking wreck. But I don't allow myself to show it. Mission failed. Failure isn't an option. I knew I was killing myself by letting my target slip by, but I couldn't make myself pull the trigger. I just couldn't. Call it a moment of panic... Call it a slight mistake... Call it whatever the fuck you want. I don't care. All I know is that I didn't have the balls to finish my mission. And now I am being punished for my lack of efficiency. 

"Target was spotted in a large crowd. I couldn't get a clear shot so I waited." That's not a lie. He was in a crowd, so I just watched him through my scope instead. He entered a coffee shop, and I lost visual. I moved onto the next roof to get a better view and a clear shot for when he exited the shop. "Target entered a building, so I moved to regain sighting. Four men entered the building with guns, and the Target moved in between the bystanders and the armed men." Not a lie. My Target- and yes he was mine, I claimed him- he didn't try to prolong his life. No, instead he willingly put himself into harm's way to protect others. I was proud of my Target. And also very confused. He must have known those people right? To offer his life in place of theirs? 

But no, the men weren't there to kill. They just wanted money. My Target was big. A very large and muscular man, but he wasn't armed. Yet he refused to move out of the other men's way. 

The man pulled a gun on him, and I panicked. I protected my Target and shot the man. The other's drew their weapons, and I lined up the next shot as my target tackled another man. 

I shot the next man, a clear shot in the head, before moving the crosshairs over the other man. He was trying to run out of the door, and I let him. Let him make it several feet out of the door and let him run down the street. I waited until he turned to look behind him to make sure he wasn't followed. I wanted to see his face. His fear. 

I didn't hesitate with taking the shot, and was relieved that the men were prevented from harming my Target. 

I looked back at my Target, and saw that he had wrestled the gun from the other man, and the other man was apparently begging for his life. I wanted to kill him, but I left it up to my Target. My gift to him. 

But now I had to kill him, right? I sighed, lining up the shot, but paused. I hesitated. I don't hesitate. 

Why was I hesitating? My Target was looking across the roof tops. He knew it was a sniper. Smart Target. 

I kept my eyes trained on him through my scope, and just waited. Watched. 

I liked my Target. He was big and brave. I didn't want to shoot him. 

But he was my Target... So I was required to. If I didn't then they would just kill me and hire another assassin to finish the job. 

No. If anyone was going to kill him it would be me. He's My Target. Mine. 

I watch his confused expression as he searches the roof, knowing that he won't find me. I'm too far away. Just a small speck. Could be easily confused for a bird. Or just not noticed at all. 

But I want him to notice me. I want him to see me. I want him to smile like he did when he replied to the text he got right before he entered the store... My Target. Mine. 

I had to... Right?

"Mr. Stark? Do you plan on finishing your explanation?" Shit. The man's hand was wrapped around his pistol, and I straightened in my seat before continuing. 

"Sorry, sir. The-" 

"You said he moved in between the bystanders and the armed men?" Shit. I knew where this question was going...

"Um... yes sir." I force my voice to be even and to stay calm. 

"So you could see the target but you didn't finish the job?" Shit. Okay, time to feed him my story and hope he believes it. 

"No sir, I waited. If the armed men would have shot him it would have both finished the job, and kept the police off of our trail." That's the story I came up with on my way over here. That I wanted to see if the other men would do my job for me, but then when they didn't, when I didn't allow them to, when I didn't allow myself to, I knew I wasn't going to be able to explain it. If there were five men with guns aimed towards my Target, how come he came out with nothing more then a few bruises?

"Alright. If that's true, then why did you shoot three of their men? That is not a probable way of keeping the police off of our trail. And not only that, but you didn't finish your original mission." His voice is dark, and I can tell he wants to take my life. He's ready for it. He doesn't take bullshit and that's all I have to give him. 

"I-..." Shit. What was the story I had prepared? I couldn't stop thinking about how that man, my Target, protected those people. Why had I protected him?

"I-..." I don't know. I don't know and now I'll have to pay the price for my incompetence. 

"Stark. You had a mission. You failed. You know the results." His voice is monotone. He doesn't care. Hell, he's probably more worried about blood getting on his carpet... 

I nod absently, not looking him in the eye. 

"I don't know why I didn't take the shot, sir. Before you... terminate our contract, will I be allowed to finish my mission?" It's a long shot. More then that... it's a near impossibility that he'll let me leave. 

"Why the hell should I let you do that? I've already given you a second chance, Stark. You missed one of your targets, and now he's in Witness Protection. A failed mission. I let you stay. And you fuck up again just because you're too fucking scared to pull the damn trigger?!" He stands, and I keep my eyes down, feeling the first bead of sweat collect on my temple. I wring my hands together, voice small.

"Sir? Permission to finish mission? " He sighs, a deep, annoyed sigh, and I resist the urge to flinch. 

He wants submission, respect, and fear, but not any weakness. 

"Stark? You fucking know the rules. The only reason you-" His phone rang and I nearly jumped out of the chair. 

"Yes?" He's impatient, his voice strained as if my presence was making him sick. "Jones?"

I hear chatter from the other line, and I wait patiently, wondering if I could wrestle the gun from him and escape down the hallway. Shoot my way out? In a building stocked with mercenaries and assassins? Not likely. 

They-we- are all strictly loyal to our boss. He found me when I was just a kid. An orphan. 

Brought me in and put me in the Academy. I received no special treatment. Hell, I had it a lot worse then most. I was young... Training beside men. Full grown, horny, angry men. My life was hell. Until I learned to fight. Next time one of the men tried to touch me I stabbed a fork into his eye. The next I snapped their neck. So then they started attacking in groups. 

Things got worse until I met him. Rhodey. He was larger then me, older too, and took me in. He never touched me. He kept the men away because he was a soldier for the Boss himself... no one dared disobey his order. He told them to stay off of me because the Boss liked me. They never touched me again. In fact they tried to avoid me completely... not risking the Boss's wrath. 

So I trained for the next eight months in peace. Well, as peaceful as an academy to train brutal and relentless marksmen and assassins. 

On the last day of August, the Boss came to review everyone's progress. He hand picked a few that he wanted, and the rest were killed. But not by him. He handed me a gun and told me to do it. 

He had told me that the younger ones are usually squeamish, and I had to prove I was ready. 

I didn't hesitate. Shot after shot. Man after man. Life after life. 

No one begged for their life. They were strong. Just like me. Just like my Target. The Boss was satisfied and immediately employed me. Although he wasn't just after my services, he kept me with him in his room. I was his play thing until l was called unto a mission. 

I never thought to leave. He would've been mad and he always hurts me when he gets mad. So I stayed and did what was required until I got 'too old' for his taste. Apparently, seventeen was disgustingly old, and I was kicked out. He gave me a small room to stay in, to where I could still be on call for missions and to help his late night urges. 

So I stayed and worked the next three years. Twenty. Not even old enough to drink and yet I've killed dozens of men. Except two. The man that got lucky enough that I missed and wasn't able to get a second shot, and my Target. 

"Who the hell keeps picking off my men?" I tune back into the conversation, still keeping my eyes down, for fear of retaliation for disrespect. 

"Alright." He hangs up and gives me a long look. "Your guardian angel must be near, Anthony. I seem to have a small shortage of men. You have permission to finish your mission. Under one condition..." 

I blink. I'm not about to have a bullet embedded in my brain? I have one last mission? Fuck that...I'll get to see my Target again?! 

"Sir?" 

"Come help daddy relax..." He leans back in his chair, and I immediately move around the desk and kneel in between his legs. His hand moves to weave itself into my dark hair, and I smile up at him before unzipping his pants. 

"Yes sir." 

 

~ Midnightdam56 ~

 

The coffee shop is a small, yet homey place. I can see why my Target likes to come here so often. I got here twenty minutes ago, pretending to write a paper for college while sipping dark coffee. I'm in a small table in the back corner of the shop, waiting for my Target to arrive. 

I wait ten more minutes before I see him walk through the door with a large smile. He seems much larger in person, and I'm suddenly wishing I had just went for sniping him instead of wanting the kill to be up close. 

He walks in and gets in line. The shop is packed, and I keep having to tell people that no, actually they can't sit by me. One old lady just rolls her eyes and sits anyways and I'm tempted to show her my pistol to scare her away, but instead I just move my chair to get a better view of my Target. 

I wish I knew his name... I wasn't given clearance to read his file, just shown a photo and told where he was likely to be and when.

I look back down at my laptop with a few pages of the shit I typed to pretend I was working. I look back at my target, and he's looking at me. I freeze, eyes going wide as he smiles and walks over. 

"May I sit with you two?" Two? Oh yeah... Grandma...

I nod, forcing my eyes to go back to my laptop, and suddenly feeling very very very small. He's freaking massive. How the hell did this statue fit through the front door? I'm kind of glad that the old lady is still here, because she's distracting him with some long, boring story about her granddaughter. 

Okay. Weapons check. Gun hidden on the inside of my jacket, knife strapped to my thigh, another strapped to my bicep, lock picking kit on underside of my watch, another small gun on inside of my combat boots, and finally, black leather gloves with woven in metal at the knuckles. I also had a laptop, cellphone, $60 and fake ID. Okay. I got this. Grandma is distracting him, and so whenever he finishes his coffee I can trail him until he is alone. Then I finish my mission. I finish my Target.

I glance up at them again, the grandma shaking my Target's hand before standing to leave. Shit.

"So what's your name?" He has sparkly white straight teeth, framed by smiling pink lips and creamy pale skin. His blonde hair is short and perfectly combed. Damn. Did he just say something?

"Huh?" I can feel my face heating up, and I drop my eyes to my lap momentarily before working up the guts to face him again. I know I must look extremely stupid, and that bothers me. I don't want my Target to think I'm stupid. I don't want him to disprove of me. But why? Why the hell do I care what he thinks?

"I asked what your name was." He looks thoroughly amused, if his smirk is anything to go by, and I just smile in return, replying in a calm and even voice. 

"Anthony Grant. Yours?" Here's my chance! What's my pretty Target's name?

"Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you Anthony." I smile, reaching over to shake his hand. Steve Rogers. Steve Rogers. It fits him. 

"You too." 

"So, Anthony... Is there a reason you've been staring at me since I walked in?" Shit. 

My mind races. I need an excuse. 

"Hmm... I was staring?" I close my laptop, pulling on a confident mask. 

"Yeah. You were." He takes a sip of his coffee, and I lean towards him, resting my elbows on the table. 

"Does that bother you?" I stare into his eyes, and he sets his cup down and leans towards me, smirk never leaving his face. 

"Depends." 

"On what?" I smile back, anxious for his answer. 

"Did you like what you saw?" My face turns all shades of red, and his damn smirk is radiant, showing of his perfect straight teeth. 

I duck my head in shame, and he just leans back in his chair and laughs. 

"You're a jerk. Ya know that?" 

"And you're cute. Ya know that? Now, the important question... will you be here tomorrow?" 

"I can be..."

"Great! It's a date. 8:15?" He smiles, grabbing his now empty coffee cup and standing. 

"8:15." I smile back, gathering my laptop and cup and follow him to the exit. 

"Bye, Anthony." He waves, walking down the street and I smile before walking the opposite direction. I'm already five minutes away from the shop before I realize I was supposed to follow him.


	2. My Mission's Mission.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Steve's 'date' gets interrupted by a very complicated character.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who commented or left kudos! 
> 
> Here's the next chapter, and be expecting an update within the next few weeks.

Deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. 

My breath fogs in front of me, and I shiver, cold from the brisk winter morning. I'm wearing my dark leather jacket, fingerless metal-interwoven gloves, a plain white shirt and skinny jeans with black converse. My numb fingers are wrapped around my sniper rifle, the crosshairs balanced cautiously over the entrance of the coffee shop. He should be arriving within the next five minutes. 

I pull back, breaking my form to glance at my watch. The display reads 8:08, and I feel myself shiver again but not from the cold. 

Am I really going to do this? Why the fuck is this so hard? I've killed pregnant mothers before for no reason other then that their husband was pissing me off. I've used children as human shields before without a second thought... Why couldn't I put a bullet in this man's brain? He's a full grown, massive beauty that sacrifices himself for innocent people... I'm usually the one hurting said innocent people. He flirted with me, probably out of pity. There's no fucking way in Hell he would ever ever EVER actually consider me again if he knew what I was capable of. 

I sit up, stretching my back and shoulders, before returning back to my rifle. I wrap my small hands around the sleek black, loving the feel of the metal underneath my hands. I look back through the scope, slowly moving the crosshairs up and down the streets, searching for the familiar blonde. Steve Rogers. I wonder if that's short for Steven? 

Deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. Prepare yourself mentally to take the shot. 

Please don't come Steve... Please don't come to our date. Please stand me up. Please don't be a gentleman. 

I shiver again, the cool air burning at my nose and ears, but it's the least of my concern. 

When I'm looking through my scope, the only thing that exists is the target, the environment that effects my shot, and my gun. My body slows down, going into an dormant state until the mission is completed. 

Shit. 

I see my Target walk down the street, smiling while talking on his cellphone. He's wearing a brown leather jacket over a tight grey athletic shirt. Tight fitting jeans and boots. My mouth waters, and I can't keep my mind from wandering... Oh I know exactly what he should be using that leather belt for... 

I've always had a dirty mind and goddamn I would RUIN this man... give me twenty minutes and I swear he'd be begging... 

Shit. Deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. Focus. 

I take my aim, carefully lining up the shot, with full knowledge that I wasn't about to pull the trigger. I could at least wait until he got off the phone right? Maybe let him finish his coffee... then while he's leaving I'll catch him.

Yeah. Let's just go with that. 

I watch as he strides down the street before dipping off into the coffee shop. He scans the room, and seems disappointed... He thinks I stood him up... He hangs up the phone, grabs his coffee, paying with exact change before sitting at the same table we shared last time. He takes a slow sip and checks his watch. 

I break away, losing focus to check my watch. 8:12. I lean back in, watching carefully as he sips on his coffee. I want nothing more then to go sit beside him. Just sit by him. Be near him... Just see him smile. 

And why don't I? Because it's my mission to kill him; that's why. I need, desperately need to get this mission over with. 

Time ticks by, and then he runs out of coffee. He stands, and I line up the shot, expecting him to leave, but he just purchases another cup and goes to sit and wait longer. 

8:26

I wait, and wait... He drinks two more cups after that, stalling to give me time to show up. He is continuously checking his watch, and I'm transfixed as his bottom lip pokes out and damn. He's pouting. It's hot... Like seriously hot. 

I can't help it. I push my gun away from me and just rest my head against the dirty rooftop. 

My neck aches, and as my body slowly comes to, I realize just how cold I am. Shiiiit. I roll over on my back and tuck my hands under my armpits to try and regain feeling. 

"I can't do it. " My voice is hoarse, and I just close my eyes trying to visualize what I'm supposed to do. Deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. 

I could take my gun and run. Never look back. Although, I'd probably starve, or get hunted down. I wouldn't be able to find work because technically I don't exist. I've never been to school, never went to the doctor, never got my driving license... I don't have a paper trail or any evidence that I'm a citizen of the United States. My parents, whoever they were, must've assumed I've died. Frozen or starved to death... Bet they'd be surprised that I was adopted by a mob boss. 

I could just forget myself and go be with Steve. I might as well enjoy the last few days I can before word reaches my boss that I'm refusing to finish my mission again. I just can't seem to bring myself to hurt my Target. Steve manages to disarm me without so much as a glance in my direction... 

I already knew before I ever loaded my rifle that I wasn't going to have the balls to shoot Steve. I don't know why, and maybe that should scare me, but I like not having control over that. I like not having Steve's life depending on whether or not I pull the trigger. I like not wanting to pull the trigger and not craving the blood. Death has always surrounded me, but he's the one figure in my life that hasn't had to deal with death. He won't ever have to deal with death if I have a say in it. 

Maybe I should just screw my mission and go talk to Steve. I peek back through the scope, seeing Steve's adorable pout, his leather jacket stretched over his large frame... Maybe that's exactly what I'll do... screw my 'mission'. 

I push myself up, tucking my gun into the locked case, stashing it in between several crates and boxes on the rooftop before stumbling down the stairs and reaching the ground floor. I'm still a good ways away, and I start jogging to the coffee shop. Not like I'm over 20 minutes late or anything...

I arrive at the shop, turning the last corner and slowing to a walk right before reaching the glass doors. I enter, thankful for the warm air that smells like coffee and cinnamon. I immediately spot Steve, and I watch, completely mesmerized as his pout disappears and is replaced by a bright smile that makes me want to swoon. I walk briskly over to him, and he stands, pulling out my chair for me. 

"Hey, Anthony! I figured you weren't going to make it. " Hearing Steve say my full name has a much larger effect then I would ever be comfortable admitting. 

His voice trails of in disappointment, and I steal a glance at my watch to see it's 8:42. 

"Yeah, I'm sorry I was late. My friend needed me to run her laptop to her this morning for her class and I didn't have your number to tell you I would be late. " The lie comes out easily, assured by smiles and fluttering eyelashes.

"Oh, well we definitely can't let that happen again, so..." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a sharpie before neatly printing his number on a napkin before sliding it across the table to me. 

"No, we definitely can't. It's very... fortunate that you happened to have a sharpie in your pocket today, huh?" I smirk, gently folding the napkin and slipping it into the inside of my jacket.

"Guilty as charged. You don't seem too disappointed that I planned on giving you my number though, if I do say so myself. " He speaks with confidence, but the light blush dusting his cheeks reveals his embarrassment. 

"Not disappointed at all, actually. It's flattering. " I smile, and he smiles back, making my face heat up for some unknown reason. All in all, it's awkward, but I just like being near him. It's as if I can temporarily forget that I'm a cruel and vicious hit man and just be a regular person. It's extremely refreshing to just talk to someone that isn't malicious in each and every way. He's my light, and I'll be damned if I let it be put out. 

"Would you like for me to get you some coffee? " I shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. 

"Yeah, coffee sounds good." The air in the shop is warm, but I'm still in the process of defrosting from my hour spent on top of the roof. 

"Alright. What do you want?" I reach into my pocket and pull out my wallet, handing him some cash. 

"Double Espresso, please?" I try to put the money into his hand, but he refuses, going to the counter and buying my coffee for me. 

He returns, setting the warm, bronze drink in front of me. 

"Thank you, but I would've paid-" 

"I know, but I wanted to. So what school do you go to Anthony?" He sits back down in the seat across from me and I smile before wrapping my hands around the warm drink. 

I try to think of a college around town that offers a major in mechanical engineering, so if he gets too nosy I'll be able to offer some information on the subject. I decide to take a drink to stall for a few more seconds of time. 

Just as the cup touches my lips, it explodes as a bullet pierces through the thin plastic, the hot liquid running all over my chin and lap. Me and Steve jump to our feet, as a large man enters, assault rifle leveled at my head. 

I watch as the man dressed in all black enters, shadows encasing his dark eyes. He stalks over to where we stand, gun aimed at me. 

"Now, now, Rogers... Doesn't this one seem to be a little young for your taste?" I glare at the tall, man, my eyes immediately drawn to the beautiful... no, magnificent, yet cruel metal arm. It gleams dangerously, showing both power and precision. My mouth waters, and I drag my eyes away from his arm to see his dark eyes locked with mine. His pistol gleams under the warm coffee shop lights, and I can hear the panic of everyone around us as they rush to leave the shop. 

How does this man know Steve? Or better yet, how does he know Steve's taste in men? 

Irrational and poorly timed jealously burns through the pit of my stomach, and I scowl at the unwanted interruption. 

"Bucky..." Steve is stunned for a few seconds, pausing before taking a small step forward, raising his hands in a sign of cooperation. "You don't have to drag him into this. Let Anthony go. He's just a college student, and he's of no threat to you. He's done nothing wrong." 

Bucky? How does Steve know his name? Am I not the only assassin he's dated? Wait, why the hell is that my first concern right now? 

The soldier looks at me, and starts smirking. "Anthony, huh?"

"You owe me a new coffee." I glare at the new assassin, crossing my arms and staring back at him as he slowly walks forwards. 

I refuse to take a step back, not wanting this man to believe I am nervous or intimidated. He reaches his metal arm forward, slipping under my shirt and pulling me towards him from the small of my back. The cool metal traces slowly back across my sensitive skin before resting on my hip. He pushes the gun to the underside of my jaw, forcing me to look up at him.

My complaints about the lack of coffee are ignored, and he continues while tracing the cold barrel of his gun across my sensitive neck. "Oh, Anthony... You did do one thing wrong, doll..." That voice... deep, passionate, yet devoid of sympathy. 

This is it, this man is going to kill me for being incompetent and not being able to finish my mission. Then after I'm dead he'll just kill Steve, finishing my mission and collecting the money for himself. 

"Oh yeah? What's that?" I smirk, feeling his grip tighten against my hip. 

He leans forward, nipping at my jaw, slowly working his mouth closer and closer until his warm lips ghost over my ear. I shiver under his touch, and he notices, because then the lips are smirking, pressing a taunting kiss just below my ear. "You, my doll, seem to have the wrong company." He gently rolls my earlobe through his teeth before pulling back, gun now aimed at Steve. 

Steve has pulled a gun of his own, and I'm stunned, wondering how the hell he was armed and I didn't know. 

"Put that away, Steven. You don't want, Anthony here to get all messy now do you?" Bucky doesn't break eye contact and he's smiling down at me with an easy, laid back smile, hand still squeezing my bruising hip. 

"Bucky. Let him go. Don't drag civilians into this." I break eye contact with Bucky, to look at Steve. His strong jaw is set in determination, and his gun is held steady in strong, capable hands.

"Civillian?" Am I not the main target here? I can't help but to pout slightly at the lack of importance. So I'm just Steve's damsel in distress? Just a hostage for this assassin to man-handle? 

I'm ignored as the men continue to converse. "You're trying my patience, Captain. Now put your gun on the floor and kick it over to me, or things will get a lot less pleasant for Anthony here. " The metal hand relaxes against my hip and runs up and down my side in an almost comforting way. His eyes are still trained intently on my face, watching my emotions. 

"Alright. " Steve holds his hands in surrender before slowly lowering himself to the ground. "Alright. Just let him go." I roll my eyes, not able to stop the groan of annoyance. 

"Oh please tell me you're not about to seriously give him your gun. That will make things better how?" Both men turn to me, and suddenly I feel very, very small. "What? I'm still being cooperative." I shrug, and Bucky just smirks at me before finally, FINALLY looking away from me. 

As soon as his eyes are off of me, I leap into action. I knee him in the balls, and as he curls around his midsection in pain, I grab a fist full of hair and knee him in the face. I hear the sick crunch of his nose, and he groans in pain as I grab the gun and twist, trying to free it from his grip. Steve's already on his feet, gun aimed in our direction. 

Bucky recovers remarkably fast, straightening and jerking the gun back to hit me in my face. His metal hand wraps around my throat, as I grunt in pain. I feel blood running down the side of my cheek, stinging from the sharp impact. The metal hand clamps down around my neck, and I gasp as I'm cut off from any air. I claw at the metal hand, probably hurting my fingers more then the hand, but still too stubborn to not struggle. I press back against his chest, feeling the gun press against my temple. 

"Now, doll, that was not very cooperative. I hate to ruin such a pretty face," he moves his hand holding the gun so he can trace his fingers across the gash in my cheek. " ...but you're just as insufferable as Stevey here. Now, drop the damn gun Rogers." 

Steve must have, because I feel something hit my shoe. My lungs desperately wheeze for air, but my attention is drawn to the warm lights of the coffee shop. The fixtures are fancy, hanging with little iron decorations across the leather stretched around the little bulb... The lights seemed to get a little dimmer... fading... The lights were dying. Dimmer, and dimmer... 

Until I was left in dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know whether or not you liked the addition of The Winter Soldier. ;) gotta love a flirty bucky...
> 
>  
> 
> Also, what do you guys think Bucky wants from Steve? =)   
> Ideas for the next chapter please!!!!!


	3. My Target's Priority

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is sexual harassment and speak of rape in this chapter.   
> Slow build... mainly trying to give you a glimpse of the past of Steve and Bucky while poor Tony is trapped in the middle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long time it took me to update this! 
> 
> I'm ADHD so I have like at least 20 stories in the process although three that I'm writing on here... So these have the priorities and this one is my favorite so will be updated more regularly then the others... 
> 
> And I'm taking 8 college classes and have two essays due each week. So please bare with me as I take slightly longer to update!   
> Sorry for the inconvenience.

I wake up screaming, a raw sound ripping its way through me as I endure a horrible sensation of light*. The bitter light claws its way up my spinal cord, leaving my body shaking in both exhaustion and overstimulation. I can't register anything for a few long seconds, my body already going into pure survival mode. My heart is racing, adrenaline coursing through my veins, only intensifying the left over shock from that horrid light. 

I don't know where the light is coming from, for every time I open my eyes I'm only met with the darkness given by a soft cloth tied around my eyes. I feel my body as it's stretched into the open air, suspended by the chains holding my arms above my head. I involuntarily shiver as the cold air brushes against my exposed skin.

"Oh, I like this one, Rogers..." I hear a dark voice drawl in a menacing tone from right behind me. The mere control and raw strength hidden behind the words send tremors up my aching body. "So pretty."

I'm unaware of the metal hand tracing soothingly up and down my back, instead trying to lure my mind out of its semi-concious state. I groan, feeling the noise grate out of my half-crushed throat before letting my body sag as another hand joins the first, this time trailing up my inner thigh. 

"Leave him alone, Barnes. This is between you and me. Keep civilians out of it." Steve?

Slowly, thoughts start to flutter back through, filling me again with the memories of how I got here. 

Steve. Steven Rogers. Bucky... an assassin that knocked me unconscious. The same assassin who is currently groping me, if the cool metal hand is any indication. 

"Hmm..." I hear the assassin chuckle as he nips the underside of my jaw. "Tell me what I need to know and this little beauty can walk right out of here with nothing more then a few bruises." I hear the words, unable to register the meaning, only able to feel as a gentle flesh hand traces my tender and bruised neck. 

"I'm not stupid, Barnes. If I tell you, you'll just kill us both." Steve's voice is strong, defiant, and it gives me a sense of calm even though the situation appears to be getting worse and worse the more I think about it. My hands are chained above my head, tugging painfully on my sore shoulders. My head is throbbing, and I feel a dry, raw pain resonate through my throat with every breath. I want to go back to the darkness... the blanket of peace otherwise known as the bliss of unconsciousness. There would be no pain, no stress, and no threat of being killed...

I feel the metal hand dip under the waistband of my boxers, and I groggily lift my head, ready to offer resistance in whatever form I can afford. 

"Good morning, doll. How did you sleep?" He continues to grope me, but I face him, eyes hidden behind the smooth blindfold.

I open my mouth to speak, a snarky remark held back by the inhuman sound that leaves my throat. I snap my mouth shut, hearing the metal armed man chuckle as his flesh hand traces down my jugular cord. 

"Am I making you speechless baby doll?" His mouth is suddenly right next to my ear, and I flinch away, cursing myself for the display of fear. Although showing fear could possibly be my best option. Steven called me a civilian, so maybe they really don't know who I am? 

"Buck... c'mon. Leave him alone." I hear Steve's voice followed by a violent rustling of chains.

"Shut the fuck up, Rogers. Either you spill what you know, or you keep that damn mouth of yours shut. Got it?"

"You're crossing a line; just hurt me, but don't you dare drag innocents into this." I hear the strain in Steve's voice, and I would reassure him that I am more then qualified to handle this, but I don't try to speak after my previous attempt. 

"Aw... Little Anthony... Looks like we're going to have to teach Stevie here a lesson, huh doll?" I turn my head away, as the cool metal hand presses against the oh so sensitive skin. I wince at the anticipation, but he never squeezes. Instead, he grabs my jaw and turns my head back towards him, tilting my head up. 

Then, I feel his lips press against mine. I'm stunned, to say the least, and I remain frozen for a full two seconds before trying to pull away. I muffle a complaint against his lips, hearing the chains rustle and clink together as I desperately try to pull my face out of his grip. His metal hand squeezes tighter and tighter against my chin, and finally I give in, fearing that he'll break or fracture my jaw, allowing him to pull me back into a more favorable position before reinitiating the kiss. 

The kiss is slow and sensual... a mockery of a lover's kiss. "Please feel free to speak, Captain. I'd love to have the excuse to RUIN this kid. God, you'd be a nice fuck ya know that, doll? Can't complain about the Captain's taste... " 

I knew he was just trying to bait Steve, but apparently Steve didn't because then he's on a rant of please's and useless bartering that will only give Robocop another reason to use me. 

Then, I'm being kissed again... much harder. I physically draw back, trying to turn my head, and surprisingly he lets me, instead trailing down to my neck. His lips are torturous as they press against my bruised and discolored skin. I contain all my noises, fighting desperately to make this easier on Steve, until he sinks his teeth into the side of my neck and I gasp, making a pained noise between a whine and a yell, hating how my voice won't let any noise I make sound even remotely human. 

His teeth grind down into my neck, and I can feel as my skin slowly begins to give way, ripping and letting his teeth draw blood.

"Ah... it's okay, doll." His voice gets slightly further away as he pulls back to look at his handiwork. "You look so pretty with my mark on you. It'll all get better soon as Stevie stops being selfish and permits me to let you go. Okay, doll? Can you nod for me?" He gently caresses my face and neck, cautiously dabbing the sore skin around his bite mark and the gash on my cheek to remove the blood. 

I nod obediently and am rewarded with a sweet kiss on the top of my head. 

"Okay. Captain, here's your last chance before I take this pretty little thing apart... " I hear the man lick his lips, and I turn my head away, letting it hang slightly. "Tell me who you gave the file to, or Anthony and I will start getting to know each other real well..."

There was a long pause, as if Steve was considering compromising his mission to save me. As if. I'm more then aware of the cost of failure, and I know that Steve wouldn't sacrifice it for me. 

"I refuse. I'm sorry, Anthony. This is a matter of thousands of soldiers' lives. I'm sorry." Steve honestly sounds broken, and I offer a small smile before giving him a reassuring nod. 

I want to say that it's okay and that I understand. That my measly life honestly isn't worth a single soldier's... much less a large number of them. Those men, including Steve in some way, fight for others, unlike me and the metal-armed man... We kill out of loyalty and for money. 

And sure, I've done some pretty selfish things. I've used a child as a human shield... I've shot someone's mother in order to draw them out so I could have sight of them to line up my shot... I'm in no way a good person. Including the fact that I've dealt with such matters frequently. 

My boss, Obie, who took me in when I was just a kid and selected me from the academy? I've slept with him countless times, him always playing the guilt card and saying I owe it to him. He's loaned me out to people as a prostitute before, and used me as live bait to draw out merciless assassins... 

I've had my fair share of shitty days, and this is just another one of them. It could be much, MUCH worse, and honestly the only thing making this hard is Steve. It hurts him to watch, and for some odd reason that affects me. Which is stupid. If he's hurting then why do I feel the pain so deep in my belly too? And why is he hurting over me anyways? Why does he care?

Which is the only reason I'm not so sure when Tin-can uses his metal hand to slowly drag my boxers down. 

"Buck... God. What are you doing? We used to be so dif-"

"Shut the fuck up, Steve. You've made your choice, and don't you dare bring up the past. We're different because our LIVES are different. You could be in my place you know. If I hadn't distracted those men they would've taken you. And where would you be? Surely not snuggled up to a young college student?" The man's grip tightens, and I bite my lip to keep from squeaking in pain. 

"Is that what this is about? You're pissed that they turned you into this... so you embrace it?"

The room goes quiet, and I hold my breath in anticipation of the horrors to come.

"You never came back for me Steve..."

"You told me to run!"

"Well you've never ran from a fucking fight before!" 

"That wasn't just a fight! I thought they were going to kill us! Then you sacrificed yourself and I wasn't going to waste your sacrfice because of my own selfishness!" Steve's voice cracks, and I feel the man's hand shake against me before he lets go. I hear his footsteps walk closer to Steve.

"I'm so sorry, Buck. I thought you were dead. I waited outside and heard you scream... I'm so fucking sorry man... " 

Is Steve crying?

"You turned me into this. You left me." His voice is extremely deep... threats laced behind every word. "You let them take me, and they turned me into this. Into the Winter Soldier. " 

I freeze, my entire body going rigid at the revelation. The WINTER SOLDIER?! 

The stories I've heard about this man... If rumors are true, he's beyond deadly, and is almost a perfectly brainwashed weapon. I've heard all about how Hydra keeps him in such a compliant state. Although from the pictures of his latest kills are to par, he's getting messy... and a messy kill is an emotional kill. The Winter Soldier isn't supposed to have emotions... The man standing before me seems to be holding a grudge... Actually this seems more like a personal mission in its entirety. The Winter Soldier doesn't have personal missions. 

His programming must be breaking down. He's unstable... Meaning that he's just that much deadlier. What has Steve gotten me dragged into?

Steve is currently pleading for both forgiveness and mercy: "No... Buck. I didn't- I'm sorry. I know. It's my fault. I'm so sorry... I shouldn't have left, I know. But I never woulda though-"

"I don't want to hear your excuses. I have a mission to complete. Although your pathetic rant has ruined my mood. So I'm going to become much less lenient." The Soldier walks back over to me, grabbing my chin and forcing my face to tilt upwards. "I'm going to take my dear sweet time with Anthony, and afterwards... I'm going to start taking him. Piece by bloody piece. We'll start with the fingers, then the toes... let's not forget the nose and ears, right doll? Although I'm sure you wouldn't want that to happen, would ya doll?" I hear the smooth noise of a knife being drawn, and I ignore his question, opting to hold my head high. 

Pain is something I'm very familiar with, so I am unafraid. If I die tonight, so what? I don't have anything else to live for. My life was fucked from the day Obie found me. 

"Buck..." Steve's voice is nervous, and I feel the blade touch my bare shoulder before sliding across my collarbone, and dipping right down the middle of my chest, trailing the knife just light enough not to break skin. I keep my breath even, awaiting the pain. 

This isn't such a bad way to die. I had always known I would die on one of my missions, but this is a nice mix up. I won't die on my mission, I'll die trapped between Steve's mission to protect, and the Soldier's mission to destroy. 

"Bucky... Listen, can we just talk this through? I can get you help. I can get you out of Hydra! Just please let me? It can be us again Buck! We can be just like we used to be! " Steve is beginning to sound desperate, which is not helping me to stay calm. 

"Who did you give the file to?" The knife trails down my bare body, until it's resting on my hip bone. 

"You know I can't tell you that..." 

"Suit yourself." The Soldier begins to cut lightly, and I hiss as he drags the edged blade up my side.

"I'm sorry Anthony. I'm so sorry..." 

I hear Steve's out of control breath, and I keep my face angled in his direction. "I'm okay." I croak out the measly words, and I'm not even sure whether or not they are even comprehensible with my injured vocal cords. 

The Soldier traces the knife across my skin, leaving a few small cuts to mark each part of my body. 

"You're gonna be so good, doll." I'm irrationally calm, and I know I should probably show some emotion so as not to arouse suspicion, but that would stress Steve out, and I'm used to rape and torture. Pathetic, but true. I've been surrounded by it since I could walk. 

First when I was on the streets, the average homeless person or junkie did not treat me kindly, then when Obie 'rescued' me... I was fine with it. I wasn't aware that he wasn't supposed to touch me... and I was just too scared that he would abandon me to voice my discomfort and pain. I didn't know any other way of life, so I accepted it. The academy was where it was the worst though... Thank God for Rhodey. Although soon I didn't need Rhodey... the Academy, as cruel as it was, also taught me how to defend myself. 

Although the worst was when Obie would loan me out as a prostitute. The men were usually disgusting and violent... Yet the worst part wasn't the act itself, it was knowing that I could kill the overweight scum within a few seconds yet I had to force myself to lay there and take everything they decided... It was hell. 

The Soldier kisses my hip bone, trailing his way up my stomach and up my chest with light touches, sweet kisses, and small cuts. His carefully licks around his bite from earlier before working his way to my jaw. 

There is a soft klank as he set the knife down, and then both of his hands are on my hips. He ducks his head and gently captures my lips as he held me in place. 

I don't really resist, and then his hands are wrapping around my thighs and lifting me, easing the tension on my shoulders. 

I groan into his mouth in relief, and obediently wrap my legs around his waist. His metal hand manages to support my weight as his other hand trails up to unhook the chains. I lower my hands, resting them on his shoulders. His flesh hand curls into my hair, and he pulls me closer while walking us backwards. 

I flinch as I feel a wall behind me, and then I'm trapped. My hands stay on his shoulders, although they're most likely in a painfully tight grip for the soldier. He presses his body against mine, his immense strength keeping me firmly in place as he reaches his hands up to my face. 

The blindfold is removed, and I blink up at the looming soldier, seeing both anger and regret mixed in his deep brown eyes. 

"Last chance, Rogers. Are you willing to fail your mission for Anthony?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Bucky shocked Tony to wake him up. Just making sure I'm clear ;)
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> Thanks for all the support for this story! 
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> So just seeing if any of you guys have been paying super close attention... Who has the file??? ;)


	4. The Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGERS>>
> 
> Gods this chapter is not nice to Tony or Steve... like at all. 
> 
> Dark!WinterSoldier...
> 
> Sorry it took so long to update. College is a bitch.

Click. 

 

My stomach twists in pure terror as I violently jerk away. I shriek, tears running freely down my face at both the humiliation and resignation of my fate. 

The Soldier stands over me, taunting me with a cruel laugh. "It's alright, doll. That was one. How many do you have left?" His mockery of an smile is pressed against my forehead, and I turn my face away, eyes squeezed shut, refusing to answer. "C'mon, babe. I'm trying to let you cool off here... If you don't appreciate that we can go ahead and do number 2, eh?" 

I bite my lip, hating the slide of the slick gun as it pushes into me again. "F-five... left. " My voice is barely functional. Only able to pronounce a few measly words at a time because of the damage done to my throat by that metal arm. 

I'm naked, pressed against the wall as the soldier's metal hand supports my weight and keeps me in a good position for him. The flesh hand is wrapped around a thick revolver that he is currently fucking me with. 

The metal is painfully cold, and I can't help but to jerk every time it enters me. I'm crying like a pathetic damsel in distress, but I can't bring myself to care. 

It hurts like hell and the soldier is not making things easier. 

"Alright doll, ya ready?" 

I stare up at him with wide brown eyes, my face streaked with tears as I shake my head, pleading for him to stop. 

"Aww... babe. I would love to stop." He twists the gun and I gasp, clawing into his back in pain. "Although Stevie here must be enjoying the show because he hasn't once tried to stop it." The soldier spares a glance to Steve before smirking back at me with dark, malicious eyes. 

 

Click.

 

I wince, trembling in the soldier's grasp as he pulls the trigger. There's one bullet in that gun. First two were empty. There's only four slots left. Four chances left. There's a 25% chance of the bullet being in the next round... 

"F-four."

Steve is shouting in the background, but the soldier won't let me look at him. Each time I try, my face is turned back to meet cold eyes surrounded by darkness.

"I can take it Steve." It's a weak, barely audible assurance that sounds inhuman because of my throat, but the Winter Soldier still hears it. 

"Oh can you, doll?" The gun is shoved in at an angle, and I yelp in pain trying to squirm away from the painful intrusion. I plead for him to stop in a broken voice, and he just laughs in my face before leaning down, pressing his lips against mine. 

I can register how bad I'm shaking when the soldier's firm, relaxed body fully presses into me. His lips roughly push against mine, forcing his way in, and I simply relax and take it, like I'm so accustomed to doing. 

He pulls back smiling, and I hold his eyes, trying to find some sense of remorse, but only coming back with pure insanity and vengeance. 

"Alright, Rogers. Yet another opportunity for you to save Anthony. Who did you pass the file off to?"

No respone.

 

Click. 

 

I bite down on my lip so hard it breaks the skin as I hear the sound...

Three shots. 

I'm basically sobbing when I mumble out a weak "three chan-...ces left" that only makes the soldier smile wider. 

I turn my head to Steve, and manage to see his shattered appearance before the soldier jerks my head back into place. Steve is hunched over in his chains, eyes squeezed shut and face red from the strain. I've heard his threats and screams for the man to stop, which have only served to make things harder on me. 

"Open your pretty little eyes, Stevie... I want you to see this." The soldier is smiling at the huddled form of Steve, before turning that deadly smile back on me. "Speaking of pretty little things... " He speeds up the rhythm of the gun, and I grit my teeth, trying to force myself to hold eye contact with him. 

"Oh, Stevie... It's a shame you didn't get a chance to take this pretty little thing home. I actually would prefer to let Anthony walk outta here. Or at least limp... Wouldn't you Stevie? Don't you want little Anthony to be able to go back to college tomorrow?" The Soldier is taunting Steve, yet his eyes stay trained on me. "What's your major, Anthony?" 

I can't think, and although I know that I had come up with something at the coffee shop, I can't stop shaking long enough to get a word out. My body is cold, and I can only press myself further against the wall. 

"Oh, Stevie! I think I'm scaring him. You should come offer him some help; you'd like that wouldn't you, doll?" My eyes are closed, and I can only manage to pathetically nod. "You want the good ole' Captain to come save you?" I nod again, tears streaking down my face as I look up at the Soldier. 

 

Click.

 

I cry out, letting out a few sobs before forcing myself to hold together for just a little longer. It hurt so much... I was trained for this... How has the Soldier terrified me so much? 

"Alright. This one's fifty-fifty, doll. Just in case you don't get another chance to play, why don't you go ahead and tell Stevie your last words to him?" I stare blankly up at the Winter Soldier, racking my mind for how I'm supposed to even answer that. "Go ahead, babe. Don't keep me waiting." 

I nod absently before turning to Steve. "Steve?" His blue eyes are filled with tears and he looks at me as if my pain is causing him pain. What do I want to tell him? 

Do I encourage him to not break? Do I tell him my real name? Do I reveal that he was my mission? Do I say... good bye? 

"Steve..." The gun is constantly moving inside of me, the slow drag in and out scraping against the dry skin causing me to wince. "I-..."

What do you say to someone you barely know? 

"I was... t-the sni-per... on the-roof. At the... rob-bery." My voice is broken and ragged, pained gasps interrupting the words, but Steve must comprehend what I said because his eyes widen at the realization. 

The man looks at me with a confused and betrayed look, as if seeing me in an entire different light. 

"You were the sniper? I thought-... That was you?" Steve stares at me with wide, hurt eyes, and then the room goes quiet. The soldier slowly removes the gun, but keeps me pinned against the wall. 

"Sniper, eh? What company?" The Winter Soldier presses the gun to my temple, eyes glaring down at me. 

What the fucking hell? Am I trying to get myself killed? 

"Um... I work under Stane." 

The soldier nods. "You were the assassin sent out to kill Steve, weren't you?" 

I freeze, momentarily startled, but it's enough for the soldier to know. 

"But you didn't. You saved him at the bank robbery. I watched, although I couldn't get a clear shot on you... You were the one Stane sent me after. Isn't this fortunate? What's the saying? Two birds with one stone?"

"Yeah. He sent you after me because I refused to finish St-... my mission." 

"No," the Soldier uses the muzzle of his gun to push my hair out of my face before continuing in a calm voice, as if he were speaking to a child. "He sent me after you nearly three weeks earlier. Something about his 'higher up' getting bitchy. Although he had me on standby. I didn't get any information but your name." 

"What? St-tane had a hit on me?" I blink, shocked by the mere implication. Why didn't he just do it himself?

"Isn't that cute? Don't you feel so used, Tony? Since that is your preferred name. Your own employer uses you so he can have a convenient fuck, then you rebel, only to be dragged back into danger by Steve. How lovely. Your chances of walking out just got a lot slimmer, doll. Gotta learn to keep that pretty mouth of yours shut."

I stare at the floor... What the fuck just happened? I'm the Winter Soldier's mission. I'm so fucked. 

I look back over at Steve, who is quietly watching the exchange. 

"So, Tony, since you had Steve as your mission, I'm assuming you watched him pretty well. Did you see who he gave the drive to? Who did he communicate with?" The Soldier wraps his hand around my back and presses me to him before carrying me over to a table. He sets me down on the cold surface and I grimace as the agony caused by the Soldier's gun shoots up my spine. 

"I-I'm not telling you." This is my way out. If I have information, he might not kill me just yet. Although why would I want to stay alive and endure torture? Stane's not coming for me. No one else will either. I'm all alone. Just me and Steve. Although I don't want to leave him alone either. So what do I do? 

Go down resisting? Or just accept my inevitable death, avoiding a shit ton of pain, but leaving Steve alone?

"Do you even know anything?" The Soldier narrows his eyes, glaring down at my small frame. 

I force myself to look up at the Soldier, smirking, eyes bright. "I watched him hand it to them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments! Comments! I love comments! 
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> let me know all your ideas for what you think is going to happen!
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> The holder of the file will be revealed soon... :)


	5. The Truth is Weakness in Itself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So so so sorry this took so long... I'm terrible! I've been so busy and just empty of any and all ideas! I do have a clear picture of where this story is going and the next update will not take this long!
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> Hope you enjoy!

When I was small, before Obadiah found me wandering the empty streets and enslaved me, I used to have this small silver chain that I always wore around my neck. I had found it at one of the public parks where I used to sleep. The moon reflected off of the smooth and shiny metal, catching my attention from where I was curled into my filthy coat, desperately seeking warmth. I had scrambled off of the hard park bench and over to where I last saw the glittering metal. I was fascinated with the idea of me finding anything worth value, so I knelt, running my cold and shaky hands through the damp grass trying to find the mystery object. 

I had smiled when I finally pulled the thin chain from where it was nestled in the grass, immediately securing it around my neck to keep it safe. Excited, I had ran my fingers over the smooth, flat surface, noting the small engravings on it, although I couldn't see to make out what the engravings were in the darkness of the night. Still I had desperately tried to trace the small engravings with my fingers to piece together what it said or showed, but couldn't figure the small details with my tiny fingers that were numb from the cold. 

Surrendering yet satisfied, I had skipped back to my park bench, curling up and clutching my silver prize with my cold fingers. I had lost hours of sleep just from excitement over my little treasure, and all too soon yet all too slow the sun had risen over the line of trees enclosing the shabby park. When I had opened my little eyes I had routinely began to rub warmth into my fingers, ears and toes, sighing quietly to myself as a group of three women jogged past, pointedly ignoring my existence. I had always kept my gaze down, knowing from experience that eye contact from someone like me only makes others feel threatened or defiled by my mere existence. 

I had made myself get off the bench, like I did every single morning, and started to hobble to the city in search for the bakery that always smelled so so good... The baker, one of many in the city who had a small sliver of sympathy, let me and some other children have the stale bread and he always, ALWAYS let us stay near the back where the warmth from the ovens seeped through the vents. Although during the night, the bigger kids would make the smaller ones leave. Those who stayed had to pay a 'price'. A price I had gotten all too used to paying.

As I was trudging through the muddy park towards the exit, I had suddenly remembered my find from last night. A smile broke out as my stiff fingers searched under my coat around my neck for the necklace. I had eagerly checked my new item to see the small numbers printed on the oval of the locket. It was a date, 1985. The inside of the silver locket contained a picture of a handsome man in a suit with a lady wrapping herself around him in a tight embrace. The other side of the locket showed a picture of just the lady smiling brightly. 

I remember staring at the locket in awe, studying the pictures until they were forever etched into my memory. I remember vowing to myself to keep that locket safe... My younger self believed I was doing a favor for the lady and the gentleman, keeping their personal item safe until they could retrieve it, but really I was just selfishly keeping the piece of beauty to myself. If I was using logic, I could have sold the locket and taken the money for food, but no, I was a stupid little kid. I had kept the pretty little locket secured around my neck, hidden under my filthy shirt and ragged winter coat. 

A small part of me had known that I had decided to keep the locket as a pathetic and false connection to my father. The man in the locket, who I had believed to be military just to sate my own ideals, had dark hair and a mischievous smile just like I imagined my father to have. I imposed my own selfish and whimsical wishes unto this man in the locket, in hopes that he would be able to help. My memories of my father were next to non-existant... I wanted to think of my father as a hero who tragically lost me and was looking to find me every single day. I wanted to believe that he loved me, and a small part of me desperately wanted the man in the locket to be my father so I would have some connection... I had foolishly hoped that the lost necklace was some mysterious clue as to how I could find him...

I was such a naive and stupid child...

I had foolishly clung to the locket, decided to keep it with me in hopes to someday find the 'soldier' in the photo. The locket made me weak, even though I had believed it gave me strength. I viewed the locket as something to cling to, to ground me. It was supposed to be my source of strength, and that in itself is what made it my biggest weakness.

Case in point: the day I got mugged in the alley by two teenagers that were leaving school... I remember them ripping the locket from my neck and me crying and kicking and clawing, desperately trying to get the one piece I had left of what I considered to be my family. I remember the bigger boy with the cold blue eyes who taunted me, holding the broken locket over a drain. 

I had pleaded with him to give it back, and both boys watched, laughing as I begged and cried... 

I remember me feeling so small, so scared... but after the boy had dropped the locket between the cracks in the grate, sending it spiraling down into what I had imagined as an endless black abyss... something inside of me broke. I hadn't feel sad anymore. I hadn't feel weak. I felt /rage/ towards the two boys. My shoulders had stopped shaking, and my tears had stopped running... Something in my mind had settled on nothing but pure, unbridled anger. 

The boys were still laughing as they turned away, leaving me bruised and alone by the small grate that had swallowed the only thing that had ever managed to ground me to this earth. Everything had hit me so suddenly... my father was gone. I had never known him. The 'soldier' in the photograph was gone. I will never know him. All I have now is the ever fading memory of the strong man in the suit and the pretty lady that loved him. 

The locket had made me weak. Made me grovel and beg in a pathetic attempt to keep what I believed was my greatest treasure and my greatest strength. Although once I had lost it I realized that this was not true. I cannot trust strength from anything other than myself. The locket had failed me just as my father had. 

Something in me was calmed at the realization of being alone. I should've been broken since my supposed source of strength was gone, but I had quickly found a much more effective source of strength. Myself. Or more specifically, my anger. 

The two teenagers had hurt me. It was only fair for me to return the favor.

It was the first kill I had ever made. Long before Obie ever found me. I was a monster on the inside. It was what anchored me...

Obie finding me and forcing me to enlist in The Academy was only the transition into something much more effective. I was already a killer... now I just had the toys and neat tricks to go along with it. 

But Steve was just like the locket. He was making me weak. I had cried, groveled and begged for the Soldier in a vain attempt to not make Steve watch. The memories of Obie, the Academy, the teenagers behind the old bakery... everyone always wanted the same thing. Except Steve. The Soldier ruined that. He violated me in front of Steve and I broke and now Steve KNOWS. He SAW. He knows I'm a disgusting killer and he's seen my impurities. Someone as good as him would be disgusted by my existence. Just like the women that jogged by every morning while I was shivering on the bench. Just like the fathers that would whisper to their children and steer them away from me, glaring at me as if me walking on the same sidewalk as his kids was a felony. 

Suddenly I'm reduced to the young, freezing and starving kid Obie rescued from the streets so long ago... I tuck my shoulders, lower my eyes and quiet my breathing to where I'm hardly noticeable. 

Steve doesn't want me. Someone as beautiful as him doesn't have to settle for anyone like me. I'm nothing but a burden and a disgrace. I should leave. I should escape, yet I'm desperate to stay with him. Just like I had returned to the grate, staying glued to the damn thing as if the locket would magically appear. When it never came back, I moved on. Weakness left behind. 

But that's exactly my problem. I can't leave him. I WANT to be weak if it means taking the pain for him. 

I should see that he is holding me back just as much as I'm holding him back. The Winter Soldier isn't some stupid teenager that bullied me in a back alley... he's deadly. I shouldn't risk it just to save Steve. And by save I mean go down with him. 

I'm not some naive and stupid child anymore. I know how this will turn out. I don't make it out. 

Steve has information that the Soldier needs. I don't, although I've led the Soldier to believe that I do. I am the Soldier's target. I will not make it out of this building alive. No one is coming for me. And even if someone comes for Steve, they won't rescue me. Steve will tell them that I am just as disgusting and evil as the Winter Soldier and I will either be taken to jail or mercifully put down. 

I need to let go of Steve, but I can't. He's so much more then just a locket... so much more then just a target... Why do I need this man whom I barely even know? 

"Alright doll, I need you to tell me who has the file. If not, then your adonis, Stevie will start losing fingers. Understand?" A metal hand gently caresses my face, but I clearly see the threat behind his touch. 

I look up to meet the Soldier's eyes, giving the smallest of nods. I would give the Soldier false information, he would go and possibly kill whoever I tattled on, but it would give me enough time to get Steve out of here. 

"There was an old lady... at the coffee shop. The first time I had met Steve. It's her. I was sitting across from them when they transferred the file. It wasn't my mission to get the information so I didn't bother with it. " I lower my head, and the Soldier smiles, running his flesh hand through my hair. His metal hand grips my hip, and I just keep my eyes down as the Soldier drags me over to the same cage Steve is inside. 

"This true, Stevie?" The Soldier has me pulled flush against him, and I keep my eyes firmly locked unto my bare feet. Steve's eyes trace over me... I can feel the warm hate spilling off of him. Betrayal. He thinks I'm dirty and dammit he's right. My hands itch for my sniper rifle... I liked it so much better when I was unseen and in control.

"No. That's not true. He doesn't know where the file is. He's lying." Steve ratted me out? Predictable. Of course he would say this so the Soldier would know I'm of no use to him. Now I'm expendable. 

"That so?" The Soldier's gun shifts to where it's pressed against my neck, but I don't flinch. I'm ready. Steve's a good man. He saved all those people from the robbery... and he knows whether I'm a threat or a person worth saving. And I'm not. I'm just a threat. A waste of human life like those school boys said back in that alley the night I lost my locket. 

"Absolutely." I look up at Steve then, shame be damned. He meets my eye, and the only thing I can register is fear and betrayal. I shoot him a confused look, shifting from toe to toe. His voice is shaking. He's nervous, yes, but that... that was a lie. He's lying. And if I know then the Winter Soldier sure as hell knows. 

"Tony? When did this exchange happen? And did you catch the lady's name? Face?" The Soldier's voice is deceptively calm and sweet, trying to lure me into a false sense of security. I hesitate with my answer, scanning Steve's eyes as he tries to wordlessly communicate with me. 

His blue eyes are wide and pleading, mouth slightly open as his breaths come short and sharp. Betrayal is written all over his handsome face. Steve looks so hurt, so wounded for some reason... is it that I lied about who I was? Or was it because I accidentally just told the truth with who had the file?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Happy ending xD right? 
> 
> okay so ideas ideas ideas!!! Drop any and all critiques/complaints or compliments in the comments.... 
> 
> And special thanks to Tenshi for encouraging me to get off my ass and continue my story !
> 
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> And another thanks to Gloafify for guessing correctly on who had the file! Nicely done! 
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> Till next time... ~Midnightdam56 ;)


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